


Of Steam and Apparitions

by illunaria



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And the Glorious Prince Nikolai, Angst and Smut, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, F/M, Featuring the Ever-Shippable Alina, Mal's Here Too, dark dark darkling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7504912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illunaria/pseuds/illunaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was sure she'd passed the point of any Grisha's sanity long ago, the visions of the Darkling haunting her only proving such. She'd flinched away from Mal's kiss because of him and now she's witnessed Mal brawl and accept Zoya's eager lips for it. Seeking some peace, Alina believed a late night swim by herself in the banya would help blow off some steam, yet now it seems temptation holds her heart tight in the Darkling's grasp. And temptation can only lead to destruction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Alina Starkov needed a break, but she was having an immense amount of trouble deciding on what exactly needed the breaking.

One option in particular was rather tempting. She wanted to break Zoya's neck for all the sneers, pompous remarks, that one time where she blatantly broke her ribs on purpose, and all the incredulous laughter that had escaped the raven-haired beauty's lips when Alina was first brought into the Grisha tents and presented to the Darkling himself.

On the other hand, there was the itch to break Mal's jaw for shoving his tongue down said Squaller's throat and then had the audacity to whine to her about how she at least never flinched when he touched her. Never mind that he wouldn't listen to Alina, never mind that she was under so much pressure as the designated leader of the Second Army, never mind that she was under constant threat that the Darkling might appear in the flesh at any moment with his army of _nichevo'ya_.

Then she wanted to break her own mind for the passing idea of running away with Mal in a moment of desperation and heartbreak. As if she could go back to being the mousy little thing that he had supposedly fallen in love with only after she had been discovered to be something more. She needed to clear her head.

"Let's go," Mal's rough voice snapped her out of her stupor, bringing her back into the thick of the wood and the dark of the night.

Her lips parted as she scrutinized him with a mix of confusion and worry. His hair was tousled after running his hands through it so many times and his face was lined with frustration. Did he mean to take her up on her plea to run away together? She had only just told him that his sweet Alina was dead and gone, leaving only the thirst for power and the third amplifier in her wake. She would never give that up, and that truth hung around them in the eerie darkness of the woods around them.

She finally spoke, her voice quiet and hoarse from tears. "Where?"

"Back to the Little Palace. I'm not going to just leave you in the woods."

A short, exasperated laugh escaped her. "Contrary to popular belief, I can take care of myself."

He stared at her, blue eyes swimming with pain. "I'm the captain of your guard."

"And you're clearly not in the right state to do your job," she scoffed, gesturing to his beaten features from his fight with Eskil. "So why don't you go on and head to bed? Or, better yet, why not go share Zoya's? It's not like you haven't before," the words dripped out of her mouth like venom on a festering wound, and she held back another onslaught of tears.

The sharp scent of birch trees tickled at her nose as she turned on her heels and marched in the opposite direction of the Little Palace, wishing she could take her words back because it hurt even more how he didn't deny them. Her wrist still tingled from his touch and all she wanted to do was wash it away forever. She needed to blow off some steam, and what better place to do so than the _banya_?

Much to her relief, she found it relatively empty, save for Marie and Nadia dressing to go back to their rooms for the night. When Marie offered to stay, Alina shook her head in silence and continued on, praying to the Saints that they hadn't noticed her tear-stained face or the fresh tears stinging at her eyes. As she stripped down to nothing and wrapped a fluffy towel around her body, she caught her own face in the mirror on the wall and frowned.

They had, without a doubt, noticed.

Her eyes were watery, and the usual darkness under them were puffy and red instead. She scowled, tightening the towel around her before heading out the door into an open-air pool that had the perfect view of the night sky, though overcast tonight. After checking to make sure there were no stragglers in or out of the water, she let the towel fall to the ground and took a plunge.

Cold water rushed over every bare inch of skin before she surfaced and sputtered for air. She shivered and grit her teeth as she began to do laps, working out her aggression with every long stroke until she was left gasping. Much to her surprise, her gasps soon turned into tiny spurts of giggles. She clung to the side of the pool and laughed until she cried, cried until she sobbed.

Hot tears rolled down her face, but when she stared up at the clouded sky, the crescent moon began to peek, a sliver of a grin mocking her tears. She furiously scrubbed her tears away and pulled herself out of the water, shivering when the wound on her shoulder throbbed.

As she wrung the water from her hair and wrapped the towel back around her lithe form, she swore to herself that she wouldn't let such petty actions made by Mal and Zoya make her cry, and she also refused to admit that she was jealous of Zoya of all people. She was the Sun Summoner, for Saints sake, and with two amplifiers too. Her fingers slowly wandered to the collar around her neck and the scales on her wrist.

Funny how they used to wander to the scar etched on her palm.

With her shoulders high, she ignored the pang in her chest as she walked back inside and into one of the wood-paneled steambath rooms. She breathed in the moist air and let out a satisfied sigh, never being more thankful for the natural hot springs underground.

Eager not to waste any time, Alina shut the door and settled down onto a wooden bench, conjuring up a tiny ball of light to cast a warm glow on the room with only the flick of her wrist. The towel pooled at her feet and soon she had settled back against the wall, eyes shut and face flushed.

She wasn't aware of how much time had passed when she stirred, having started to doze off. It was the most peace and relaxation that she had experienced in a long time coming, and she had caught her mind wandering. Just earlier she had been considering kissing Nikolai and forever damning the consequences. Yet she'd rejected him and had to deal with her own consequences in watching Mal and Zoya and feeling sorry for herself. A small frown curled on her lips. Maybe she should seek Nikolai out and apologize for shoving him away, kiss him until she forgot her pain, and then drag him into the Darkling's chambers and -

The pain in her shoulder had just ebbed into a thrumming pulse when her light was snuffed out. Her body jolted in panic and her hands immediately shoved forward in an effort to call light forth, but the inky blackness was too thick - so thick that she wasn't able to see her own hand in front of her face. Swallowing noisily, her shot down and fisted themselves into the fabric of her towel.

Alina pulled the towel around her body and squinted in the darkness, waiting. It had to be another vision of the Darkling, and he couldn't have chosen a worse time to make an appearance. On the Fold, in the chapel, in his room, watching her from a distance almost everywhere she went... she wasn't entirely sure if she was going mad or not.

"Am I interrupting?" his cool voice caressed her ears and she tightened her grip on her towel, glaring heatedly into the darkness.

"If I said yes, would you go away?"

His rich chuckle reverberated off every bone in her body. In a matter of moments, the darkness had dissipated, leaving the two of them alone in natural gloom and steam. Sweat beaded on the back of her neck as she first eyed his tall silhouette and then the door.

"Do you know how late it is, Alina?"

"Are you my mother now?" she muttered, glancing back at his dark form with annoyance evident in her eyes. "You'd think Baghra would have taught you some manners, barging in on a woman naked..."

She could practically feel his eyes assessing her, greedily crawling over her exposed skin. "You seem decent enough."

Then he took a step towards her, the sharp angles of his angelic face coming into view while she clutched the towel tighter against her chest. "Don't take another step."

The Darkling stood frozen in place, and she took notice on how his black kefta was clinging to his pale skin, his shock of black hair dampening from the steam surrounding them. Alina tore her eyes away, and if her face wasn't already heated from the steam, she was sure to be blushing from head to toe at the sight of him alone. Her heart was pounding against her chest, begging for another look, but she kept her eyes down.

"Something must have happened," he mused after a few long moments of silence. "Was it your _otkazat'sya_?" Alina refused to answer, so he continued, "Or this Nikolai he spoke of? Tell me, does he happen to be the Lanstov prince?"

She finally looked up, her eyes boring into his quartz gray eyes. "Tell me," she said mockingly, "why are you so unfazed by me only wearing a towel?"

Amusement danced upon his unscarred face as he arched one elegant brow. "You find that after several lifetimes, attraction can be easily concealed under a mask of innocence. Though, have I truly ever hidden mine from you?"

"I clearly remember you threatening to skin me and wishing to throw me overboard," she pointed out, not saying anything this time around as he took another step, leaving only a foot of space between them. Her voice turned to a whisper when she spoke, lifting her chin to search his face, "You haven't kissed me since the night before... the Fold's accident..."

A wry grin curled on his mouth as he slowly began to pull apart his black kefta, revealing all lean muscle underneath. "I will admit that I was feeling quite... dejected after your betrayal. All for the impotent tracker too."

"I don't think I was the one doing the betraying," the counter came out more as a breathy sigh than the spiteful words she had meant to direct at him. Her eyes darting about to look anywhere but him, Alina licked her lips that felt so suddenly dry. The heat was getting to her, none of this was real, none of this could be real.

Fingertips brushed against her cheek, his breath maddeningly hot against her skin. "I never wanted to betray you."

Of its own accord, one hand freed itself from its duty to hold up her towel and instead inched up his toned abdomen. Her breathing became heavier as she lifted her chin and allowed her lips to be caught in his. It was a bruising, punishing kiss that bowed her spine and weakened her knees, his hand tangled in her hair.

Alina was feverish, with one hand roaming his chest and the other desperately clinging to whatever fragment of dignity she had left, and she was in constant fight with herself. Her virtue caught the Darkling's interest but her thirst kept him wanting more. As his tongue swiped against her bottom lip and she eagerly let him in for a devouring kiss, she realized that she thirsted for his dominance over her.

His hands slapped against the pale wood on either side of her thighs as he pressed her into the wall with his bruising kiss. She might have keeled over that very moment if he allowed it, as it felt like he was pulling every breath out of her trembling body.

When one hand slipped underneath her only protection, she made no move to push it away. She thought of the pleasant little thrill that rushed through her whenever Mal kissed her, but that could never compare to the insatiable desire the Darkling wrecked upon her very being from the moment he first laid eyes on her. This mad desire that left her quivering with need, left her heart threatening to burst from her chest. His fingers slithered closer to her center, dipping in between her thighs.

His dark chuckle was euphoric when he found her molten center, already dripping wet.

"Is this for me, Alina?"

She groaned, a sound halfway between annoyance and need. Her arm was beginning to ache from the sharp angle it was in, thanks to whatever shred of dignity she had left, but the other grasped his wrist and begged him to continue.

His eyes darkened before he turned to nip at the skin of her neck directly above her collar, successful in bringing forth a wanton whimper. Then he stroked her expertly with one finger, like a maestro plucking the first note of his instrument. She gasped, toes curling, her free hand darting to clutch onto his shoulder as his fingers explored her most sensitive flesh.

The tip of one finger dipped inside her, testing the waters on just how far she was willing to give herself to him. In that moment, she might admit that she was completely his to do with as he pleased. But she kept her lips sealed, apart from the pleasurable gasps that tore from her throat as he thumbed over her clit teasingly.

A satisfied rumble in the Darkling's throat caught her attention. "What?" she whispered, barely able to find her voice above the pleasure he elicited in her body as his fingers kept stroking in that maddening way. Her body was strung tight as a bowstring, ready for the final pluck to send her over the edge. The shining brink of madness and ultimate gratification was alight in her eyes when he answered.

"Your _otkazat'sya_ has yet to claim you, I see," he purred into her ear. Although one part full of rage deep inside her, buried under all her desires blanched at the words, she clutched onto his shoulder and rocked her hips against his hand.

"Please," she sobbed brokenly, throwing her head back as she felt herself on the brink of euphoria, "I- I need you."

The Darkling paused and, in a moment, was standing at full height. A wicked smirk etched itself upon his face as he raised his fingers to his lips and licked each digit meticulously. Alina watched in stupefied disbelief, hot tears building in her eyes at being denied her release.

"Soon," he murmured, no doubt pleased with himself when he disappeared on the spot.

Raw anger bubbled underneath her skin as she threw off the towel, slammed open the door, threw on her blue kefta, and trudged back to the Little Palace as the sun was just beginning to peak. As she crawled underneath the covers of purest ebony silk under the canopy of his bed, she crushed a pillow to her face and inhaled his scent, crisp as the night.

It was there where she shoved aside the mortification crawling in her veins and wished his promised soon was closer than what she imagined.


	2. Chapter 2

Alina slept well past noon, her limbs twisted in the sheets and skin sticky from sweat, both signs of a restless sleep. The hexagonal bedroom was still dark as night, as no servant had dared enter to light the lamps with her sleeping. She was surprised Tamar hadn't personally come to shake her awake herself, but after showing Alina what Mal had been up to in his free time, she probably thought it best for her to try to sleep.

Now she busied herself with gazing at the almost empty bookshelf, save for a few volumes she had pulled from the library with hopes of finding anything more about Sankt Ilya and the firebird. Yet all her research had led to a dead end.

A frown curled on her lips as she pulled herself out of bed and stretched, still in her wrinkled _kefta_. She hadn't bothered to change after the night's... activities. That is, if it wasn't all in her head. She slowly brushed her fingers over her lips and closed her eyes in attempts to remember if it was merely a fever dream. As if on cue, a knock sounded on the door. Her frown deepened when she considered the possibilities of it being Mal.

"Alina?"

She heaved a sigh of relief. "Yes, Tolya?"

"You are aware of it being the prince's birthday, yes?" he spoke through the door.

She paled as she surveyed her frazzled appearance in the cheval mirror. "I- Is it? I mean, o- of course! I haven't forgotten! How could I forget about having dinner with the royal family and the other nobles..." she trailed off, her voice growing smaller with every word.

Padding across the hardwood floors, she threw open the wardrobe and pulled out a light _kefta_ made of shimmering panels of sheer gold silk. The bodice was set with sapphires of deep Summoner's blue that matched the jewels that she would have to set in her hair after she detangled the mess that it now was. With a sense of newfound determination thriving in her blood, she quickly showered and had readied herself within the hour.

Dinner was being held in the Eagle's Nest, one of the sumptuous dining rooms of the Grand Palace. It was named for the massive frieze on the ceiling depicting the crowned double eagle, a scepter in one talon and a cluster of black arrows bound by red, blue, and purple ribbons in the other. Its feathers had been wrought in real gold, and Alina swore she felt greed press down on her chest when she gazed up and thought of the firebird.

Her eyes returned to the table and its occupants, high-ranking generals of the First Army and their wives, as well as all the most prominent Lantsov uncles, aunts, and cousins.

The Queen sat at one end of the table looking like a wilted flower drowning in pale rose silk. At the opposite side sat the King and Vasily, the latter not clearly trying to ignore his father ogling an officer's young wife. Nikolai sat in the center with Alina at his side, his princely charm sparkling as always. 

Although he had specifically asked for no ball to be held for him, it was still Belyanoch, and the King and Queen couldn't contain themselves. The meal consisted of thirteen courses, each one more elaborate than the last. As the servants carried out a life-size gelatin mold cast in the shape of a fawn, her fingers itched to touch the bone resting on her neck.

Her mind began to wander as the discussions droned on and on, and she was only half-listening to the round, red-faced general on her right. Instead, she thought of the previous night's apparition, how long fingers had stroked along her thighs, flicking and teasing and bringing her to a new height until they suddenly vanished, leaving her unfulfilled. Unsatisfied.

She fidgeted, raising her eyes until they rested on Mal. The King's guards were posted at intervals along each wall. While Tamar stood somewhere behind her, Mal was standing directly across from her, hands behind his back, eyes straight ahead in the blank focus of all the anonymous servants. Just as soon as she'd spotted him, she looked away. The butterflies she used to get in her stomach whenever she gazed at him had disappeared, even though it was only days ago where she wanted him and only him.

Though she could never deny that there was a strong pull to possess him, and as to why, she could only blame her long attachment to childhood fantasies.

Instead of those blue eyes, she thought of the steely gray gaze of the Darkling. The calm in his voice, the mirth in his smile, the surety of his touch, each had the ability to bring her to her knees and beg for more - more pleasure, more abuse.

She knew it was highly inappropriate being an esteemed guest at the prince's birthday dinner and pressing her thighs together in an attempt to satiate herself. If anything, it only made her face go as red as the general rambling beside her.

"Oops," Nikolai gasped from her left, the clattering sound of a silver fork following a second after. As a servant rushed forward to help, he lifted one hand, a single silent command that had the mousy servant bowing and backing away.

She shifted as Nikolai pushed his chair back a few inches before bending at the waist and ducking under the table, his head on level with the table as his hand groped the floor for his dropped silverware. The others paid little mind, each delving in their own conversations of nothing in particular when Nikolai straightened back up in his seat.

But not before hooking a finger underneath her _kefta_ and pulling it up, successfully exposing one leg under the table. Her eyes flew to his, hand already moving to push it back down when she was stopped by his hand on her arm.

After passing the fork off to the servant and gladly accepting a new one, he met her eyes and sent her a smile that held some hidden meaning. "You'll find me rather good at reading body language, Alina. So," he whispered, "is it because your knight in shining armor is standing only a few feet away or could it be you're having second thoughts about you and me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she whispered back, focusing on pushing the onions around her plate rather than on how warm his fingers felt circled around her wrist. She pushed away all thoughts of the Darkling and cast a sideways glance a Nikolai, almost the complete opposite with his blond hair and hazel eyes. The one thing they shared, however, was a thirst for power, even if they had different methods of approaching it. Her heart quickened at his touch, and she bit her lip when he ran his thumb over her pulse, his lips curling into a feline smirk. He released her hand and rested his on her bare thigh instead.

As they were served the flavored ices, he began making lazy circles on her skin even as Vasily rose to his feet and lifted a glass of champagne. "Brother," he said, "it is good to be able to toast your birth this day and to celebrate with you when you have spent so long on the other shores. I salute you and drink to your honor. To your health, little brother!"

" _Ne zalost_!" chorused the guests, drinking deeply from their glasses just as Nikolai did, completely composed even as his fingers trailed upwards, so familiar from last night except she was now warm from the _kvas_ rather than the _banya_ and she was wearing a great deal more.

  
Before the others could continue with their conversations, Vasily tapped the side of his glass with his fork, producing a loud clink clink clink that regained the party's attention.

"Today," he said, "we have more to celebrate than my brother's noble birth."

Nikolai's fingers paused ever-so-briefly before continuing in their path, and he continued to smile pleasantly while Alina squirmed beside him. As Vasily began to boast about his own achievements on a successful negotiation with Fjerda, his brother pried apart her thighs and grew closer to where she most wanted him. Gripping her spoon in her hand hard enough to create indents, she shoved her cherry-flavored ice in a failed attempt to cool her face.

One, two long strokes along the thin fabric of her panties had a gasp flying out of her mouth, and in a feeble attempt to cover it up, she coughed and sent apologetic looks around the table.

Vasily frowned but continued, "They wanted a few of the northern logging roads reopened, and once the Darkling is defeated, they expect the cooperation of the Sun Summoner in our joint efforts to push back the Fold."

"Which roads?" asked Nikolai, apparently undeterred by what his hand was doing between her legs.

Vasily waved his hand dismissively. "They're somewhere south of Halmhend, west of the permafrost. They're sufficiently defended by the fort at Ulensk if the Fjerdans get any ideas."

At once, Nikolai whipped his hand away from her and stood, his chair scraping against the parquet floor. She had half the mind to cry out in protest, but thought better at the total look of gravity on his face.

"When did you lift the blockades? How long have the roads been open?"

Vasily shrugged. "What difference-"

"How long?"

The wound on her shoulder throbbed.

"A little over a week," Vasily said. "Surely you're not concerned that the Fjerdans intend to march on us from Ulensk? The rivers won't freeze for months, and until then-"

"Did you ever stop to consider why they might concern themselves with a logging route?"

Vasily gave another disinterested wave. "I assume because they're in need of timber," he said. "Or maybe it's sacred to one of their ridiculous woodsprites."

A nervous laughter passed around the table as Alina pushed down her _kefta_ and looked at Nikolai with a confused expression, even as her shoulder begged for her attention.

"It's defended by a single fort," he growled.

"Because the passage is too narrow to accommodate any real force."

"You are waging an old war, brother. The Darkling doesn't need a battalion of foot soldiers or heavy guns. All he needs are his Grisha and the _nichevo'ya_. We have to evacuate the palace immediately."

"Don't be absurd!"

"Our one advantage was early warning, and the scouts at those blockades were our first defense. They were our eyes, and you blinded us. The Darkling could be mere miles from us now."

Vasily sputtered, immediately calling Nikolai out on making himself ridiculous, that their intelligence put the Darkling in the south with the Shu, how he was only spouting fear-mongering nonsense, and even pulled out the last card in his deck: proclaiming Nikolai a bastard.

The Queen gasped before Nikolai released a harsh laugh. "Yes, call me out, brother. A lot of good it will do. Look around the table. Every general, every nobleman of high rank, most of the Lantsov line, and the Sun Summoner. All in one place, on one night."

Almost every face paled at the statement.

"Perhaps," said the freckle-faced Lantstov boy across from Alina, "we should consider-"

"No!" Vasily shouted, his lip trembling. "This is his own petty jealousy! He cannot stand to see me succeed. He-"

The tolling of the warning bells began to ring in the distance, distant at first but gradually growing closer as they echoed up the streets of Os Alta, through the upper town, and over the walls of the Grand Palace.

"You've handed him Ravka," Nikolai said quietly, but his words were clear as day as the guests rose, pushing back from the table in a state of unadulterated panic.  
Mal was at Alina's side immediately, but she stayed frozen in her seat as chaos erupted around them. "Alina? Alina! We have to get to the Little Palace. The mirrored dishes on the roof-"

The windows exploded.

Glass rained down from above, and she gasped, clutching onto Mal's shirt once he tugged her from the table to shield her. The guests screamed, huddling against each other as if it would do any good. The _nichevo'ya_ swarmed into the room moments later, like gargantuan insects made purely of shadow, their buzzing whirring in the air.

"Get the King to safety!" Nikolai cried, unsheathing his sword and running to his mother's side after casting a quick glance to Alina and Mal, who still had his arms around her in protection.

The palace guards stood paralyzed, frozen in terror. They hadn't been trained to fight literal monsters. A shadow lifted the freckled boy from his feet and threw him against the wall. He slid to the ground, his neck broken.

Alina shoved Mal away and turned her hands upwards, but the room was too crowded to risk using the Cut.

Vasily still stood at the end of the table, the King cowering beside him, on his knees with his arms raised over his head in a pitiful effort to shield himself.

"You did this!" Vasily screamed, shoving one accusing finger Nikolai's way. "You and the witch!" With his other hand, he raised his saber high and charged toward Alina, bellowing with rage. Mal quickly threw himself in front of her and raised his sword to block the blow. Before Vasily could bring down his weapon, however, a _nichevo'ya_ grabbed hold of him and tore his arm from its socket, blood spurting down Mal's coat. The foolish prince crumpled to the floor in a dead heap.

Alina stumbled back, scream frozen in her throat as she turned her head and met Nikolai's sad eyes. The Queen began to shriek hysterically, and he had to hold her back from surging forward to get to her son's lifeless body. "Don't," he pleaded, wrapping his arms around her. "He's gone, _Madraya_. He's gone."

Another swarm of _nichevo'ya_ flew down from the shattered windows, clawing their way towards Nikolai and his mother. Knowing full well she couldn't put any more lives at risk, she thrust both arms upwards, the Cut slicing through shadows in two blazing arcs, barely missing one of the generals cowering on the floor. More screams erupted behind her where _nichevo'ya_ were falling upon their prey.

"To me!" Nikolai shouted, herding his mother and father to the door. Both Alina and Mal followed suit, down the hall where chaos was erupting. Servants and footmen crowded the corridors in blind panic, some scrambling toward any door to the outside, others barricading themselves in rooms.

A boom sounded from outside, and while Mal was at her side and urging her forward, she dared a glance out a window passing but found only saw the darkness of the _nichevo'ya_.

Fabricators, then, she thought in an attempt to give herself hope, but she felt disappointment fall in the pit of her stomach. Alina shook her head, ignoring the look of confusion Mal eyed her with.

They burst from the palace and careened down the marble steps. A screech of twisting metal rent the air, and one look down the white gravel path told her where the sound originated from. The golden gates of the Grand Palace had been blown off their hinges by a wall of Etherealki wind. The Darkling's Grisha streamed onto the grounds in the brightly colored _kefta_.

Before she was able to catch sight of familiar billowing black, Mal took her arm and the two of them were sprinting down the path to the Little Palace. Nikolai and the royal guards trailed behind them, slowed by his frail father. At the entrance of the wooded tunnel, the King doubled over, wheezing badly as the Queen wept beside him, holding tight to his arm.

"I have to get them to the _Kingfisher_ ," said Nikolai.

She bit down on her lip and tried to forget what had happened between them only a few minutes ago, although it felt like centuries ago amidst the wrecking. "Take the long way around. The Darkling will be headed to the Little Palace first. He'll be... coming for me," she breathed, the words tumbling from her lips.

"Alina, if he captures you-"

"Go," she choked, holding back panicked tears. "Save them, save Baghra. I won't leave the Grisha."

"I'll get them out and come back. I promise."

A tearful smile passed across her face. "On your word as a cutthroat and a pirate?"

He touched her wet cheek once, briefly. "Privateer."

Another explosion rocked the ground.

"Let's go!" Mal shouted and pulled Alina into the tunnel, who looked over her shoulder and saw Nikolai silhouetted against the purple twilight. Maybe it was the last she would see of him, and only the idea made her heart ache.

 

* * *

 

The mirrors hadn't survived. The _nichevo'ya_ had made quick work of one of them by the time they had arrived, thoroughly crushing Paja in the process. Once she had arrived on the rooftop, she'd barely created a beam of burning light before they had descended in waves upon them.

Sergei had to be ripped away from Marie's corpse, ripped open from neck to navel. Only a small group of them remained... her, Mal, David, Sergei, Nadia, Adrik, Zoya, three Inferni, and two more Corporalki - one Healer and one Heartrender. The remains of the Second Army. As they stood amidst the mass of dead Grisha in the main hall, their blood coating the walls, Alina believed the worst. All was lost. Everything they had worked for had been for naught and she was directly responsible for the innocent blood that had been spilled. She collapsed to her knees, fresh blood soaking into the fabric, staining it red, and hid her face in her hands as the _nichevo'ya_ scratched at the wood on the other side of the doors.

"Alina?" It was Mal, crouched beside her. "Nikolai might not have left yet. We could try to make it to the _Kingfisher_."

She shook her head, the tears she had been fighting now rolling down her face for the second night in a row, all for entirely two different reasons. If Nikolai and his family hadn't left yet, then they were all dead, and possibly Baghra too. She had the sudden image of Nikolai's body floating facedown in the lake beside the splintered pieces of the _Kingfisher_.

Paling, she doubled over and heaved, emptying the contents of her stomach. "It's too late," she sobbed, wincing as Mal pulled her hair out of her face. A solemn silence fell over them before being broken by a rolling crack of thunder in the distance.

"He's coming," moaned one of the Inferni. "Oh, Saints, he's coming."

"He'll kill us all," whispered Sergei.

"If we're lucky," replied Zoya.

And she was right. Alina herself had seen how the Darkling dealt with traitors in the shadowy depths of his own mother's eyes, and there was no doubt that he would bring forth an entirely new cruelty to Zoya and the others.

"I say we try to get to the uppertown," said Zoya as she tried to wipe a spot of blood off her face, but only succeeded in leaving a larger smear on her cheek. "I'd rather take my chances with the monsters outside than sit here waiting for the Darkling."

Alina achingly climbed to her feet and released the lip she'd been gnawing on before speaking up, "I'll head back to the Grand Palace and try to gain his attention," she spoke slowly, the taste of bile souring her face. "The rest of you get out. David, do you have any _grenatki_ left?"

He pulled two iron cylinders from his _kefta_. "These are the last."

Then Mal took hold her her arm and spun her around to face him, the movement rushing to her swimming head. "Like hell you're going out there alone."

"He won't kill me," she growled and tried pulling her arm free, but his grip was like steel.

"No, but he'll do far worse. Do you expect me to just leave you behind?"

"You will," she hissed, eyes glowering into his icy blue orbs, so stubborn and determined to use himself as a shield for the rest of his short _otkazat'sya_ life. "I want you gone, so he may never be able to track the firebird and make me a weapon. You will get far away from Ravka. This is the only chance we have. As your leader - no, as your friend, listen to me."

His nostrils flared, but after a moment's hesitation, his fingers uncurled and he took a step back, standing at attention. "Yes, _moi soverenyi_."

Although she still didn't find the title fitting for herself, she nodded and further instructed, "Take one of the back entrances. I'll use this one and distract them while you all flee. Understood?"

They nodded, Zoya being the first to turn on her heels and dart down one of the hallways. As she watched them go, Mal being the last to disappear, she turned and cautiously approached the front door that was about to give way by the amount of _nichevo'ya_ hauling their strength against it.

Another crack of thunder pierced the air. She took a breath and braced her hands against the door, curling around the carved handles. The lock snicked back before she threw open the door.

Shadows whipped at her face but didn't slice into her skin. It was nearly impossible to differentiate each _nichevo'ya_ from the other as they pressed against her, blurring and blinding her in total darkness. Then she drew up her hands and made two searing Cuts in the air, severing a path through the monsters.

She pressed on until her arms ached, and as she emerged through the wooded tunnel, the air around her became so thick, her heart began to ache to the point of bursting, and she fell to her knees. Flecks of blue and red darted across her spotting vision before she collapsed, cheek pressed against the earth.

Amidst the swirl of colors emerged a line of onyx, tall and foreboding.

Darkness enveloped her.

 

* * *

 

Alina found herself crumpled in the middle of the throne room when she came to. The pale blue carpet was soft under her legs, and the lack of light shining through the shattered windows that once depicted proud eagles revealed that she must not have been subdued for too long. It was far too dark, the room only lit by the few lanterns whose stands hadn't been knocked over in the takeover.

Raising her chin, she took notice of the many Grisha overlooking the main floor from the upper stories. There were so many, much more than what she had seen on the ship as they traveled the True Sea. Most of them had to have been gathered from Fjerda, as following a man who promised a land where Grisha would thrive was a far better option than the persecution they faced in Fjerda. They were quiet, and the look of anticipation and curiosity caused dread to drop to her stomach. Finally, she turned her gaze straight ahead.

The Darkling lounged on the Ravkan throne, appearing more regal than King Alexander III truly ever had. He still wore his black _kefta_ , flowing down his body like an ebony stain on the golden throne. He was thinner, paler, but the sharp angles of his face had only become more beautiful. A mask of stone had been meticulously placed as she awakened, but she could see the triumph glittering in his eyes even from her place in the center of the room.

"Sankta Alina," he started, his voice a hiss in the darkness, crawling up her spine. "Rise."

She bit down hard on her bottom lip as she got to her feet. She cast her eyes down and could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he continued, "You now stand before Ravka's new ruler. You, the rebel leader of a fallen army. Yet, did you truly ever wish to go against me, the one who could ever understand your thirst? Could ever... _satisfy_ it?"

Her eyes shot to his and he understood the questions swimming in them. "Yes, Alina. I was there, answering to your every call. On the Fold, here in the palace, last night..." he trailed off suggestively, amusement spreading across his face and thoroughly cracking the stone, no doubt enjoying the power he held over her.

Alina felt herself flush red from head to toe, shame washing through her, but with it came overwhelming relief. She hadn't imagined it after all.

A muffled sound from one of the darkened corners brought her attention elsewhere. The Darkling followed her gaze and nodded, flicking his wrist.

Mal was shoved into the lamplight, bound and gagged.

Her jaw dropped, a sharp jab of fear having her go rigid. She had told him to leave with the others, to get as far away as possible. She paled at the possibility of them having captured the others too, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from Mal to search the shadows.

Tears flooded her eyes.

Although the Darkling would likely not kill him for the sake of his excellent skills as a tracker, he would still torture the boy she'd loved all her life given the opportunity. Mal may have made some mistakes in his life, but he didn't deserve a lifetime of torture. And if the Darkling obtained the firebird, there would be nothing to stop him from end his life there. And if Mal refused, then he would kill him anyway.

It was a loss both ways.

"Why are you here?" she choked out, a tear rolling down her face. "I told you to leave."

Guilt washed over his ragged face, bloodied and littered with fresh bruises. She could only assume that he was apologizing against the gag stuffed in his mouth, his voice a strangled moan.

"That may be so," the Darkling spoke, "but _otkazat'sya_ very rarely listen to those of greater power. Tell me he understands you, Alina. Tell me he doesn't disappoint you. Tell me last night meant nothing to you."

"Last night meant... meant..." She watched as Mal's brows furrowed in confusion, but she shook her head and turned her eyes back to the Darkling. "Let him go."

"We need him for the firebird," he said cooly, undeterred. "Do you believe you're in the position to be negotiating?"

"You can't have both of us," she begged, her pleading brown eyes on his. Mal had begun shaking his head from left to right, and began struggling as a Corporalki whose _kefta_ was embroidered in black surged forward and flexed his hand. Mal's eyes bulged before he forced himself to still, face twisted in pain. A whimper sounded in the back of her throat. "Please let him go."

He paused, then nodded once. "Swear your allegiance to me and he goes free."

"I swear my allegiance to you," the words tumbled out of her mouth, rapid and unfeeling as she willed her heart to stop pounding rapidly. She wouldn't let him know of the effect he had on her, especially now when he had murdered so many others.

His appearance in the _banya_ felt too far away now to matter.

Yet his dark chuckle was a sinful caress that heated her blood and sent it rushing down to her center. It was a wicked betrayal, the way her body did her mind. "That was pitiful, Alina. Surely you can do better." Gesturing her forward with the curling of his finger, he commanded, "Here."

All eyes were on her when she put on foot in front of the other, her muddied golden _kefta_ swishing around her feet as she cautiously approached the base of the dais. She kept her eyes ahead, too afraid to look Mal's way as she passed by his trembling body.

"I want a demonstration," he said, resting his hands on the arms of the throne. They were slightly thinner than those that had toyed with her, but she had an inkling that that wouldn't change a thing. Her cheeks flushed at the thought before she blinked, registering his words.

What did he want her to do, bend down and kiss his boots? "What do you mean?"

His eyes darkened, the room dimming as the moon disappeared behind the clouds outside, his voice a sibilant hiss in the darkness. "Come closer and I'll show you."

Her feet carried her up the steps of the dais until she was standing merely a foot away from him. "Now, on your knees," he commanded with a formidable, sharp-toothed smirk.

Laughter emerged from the Grisha overhead.

Alina suddenly had the impression that kissing his boots wasn't on the agenda.

Hesitation crept along her bones and she found herself taking a step back. Irritation flashed in those steel eyes, however, and when she felt something creep underneath her _kefta_ and wrap around her ankle, a shrill scream ripped through her throat.

Inky bands of shadows had bound themselves around her ankles and wrists. They forcibly wrenched her down to her hands and knees, drawing her closer to the Darkling until she knelt between his legs. "You can't do this," she cried, tugging at the shadows that had glued themselves to her skin.

"I suggest you do as I say, that is, if you want your tracker to live to see the sunrise. I still find myself rather tempted to dig my knife into his heart while you watch."

Mal had resumed his muffled screaming and Alina glanced over her shoulder to see him struggling against her own bonds, growling and kicking at the Heartrender behind him with both legs. She could read the pain clouding his eyes that accompanied his shaking head.

"I have to," she whispered before turning back. Her body hummed in delight as her heart ached with the same pain Mal shared. Alina looked up, expecting further instruction.

But when all the Darkling did was lean back in his throne with an arched brow, she paled considerably.

Mal was once again silenced as she tentatively reached into the folds of his black kefta, timidly fumbling with the buttons and fasteners. Pausing at the feel of his breeches and the considerable bulge there, she averted her eyes as she undid the fastener there, cheeks heating and breath quickening while she listened to the blood rushing in her ears.

"Look, Alina," the Darkling growled.

The shadows on her wrists thrived before she felt the stinging force of a whip against her kefta, tearing and peeling silk away to expose her fair skin. The Darkling held a ribbon of darkness in his hand, languidly moving it against her bare chest, circling the taunt peaks of her nipples.

She was fully aware of the eyes on her, some greedily taking in the sight while others watched in envy, and perhaps pity in the few Grisha who weren't too far gone. Angry tears rolled down her face, but she wasn't able to freely move her hands. Instead, they moved up his legs out of their own accord to rest on his thighs.

" _Look_."

Quite begrudgingly, she lifted her blurry eyes, mouth immediately drying at the sight. She had nothing to compare it to, except for the few instances in her childhood when Mal would strip down to nothing and wade into the waters of the muddy creek in Keramzin. That, however, had been years ago when she knew nothing of how to pleasure a man.

As the Darkling had found with his wandering hands last night, she hadn't gained much knowledge in time either.

She now fully regretted blocking out the whispers that girls would exchange in the barracks. Licking her dry lips, she lifted one hand and ran one fingertip up his length and glanced up when the Darkling inhaled sharply, which she took as a sign that she had done something right. She gingerly began to stroke up and down gently.

His hand shot down and twisted in her hair, causing her to wince.

"My, look how innocent you are. It seems you'll have to be taught how to properly please," he cooed, his head cocking to the side as he scrutinized her. "Enough teasing. You, my sweet saint, are going to worship me with your lips."

The Darkling shot a grin over her shoulder, no doubt silently gloating his dominance over her to Mal, her subjugation the sign of the new age of Grisha where _otkazat'sya_ like him would take no part in. She would forever remain his tool, on her knees, on her back, and on the Fold, a weapon for him to wield into war.

As she wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock, her body hummed in tune with his. He made no move to guide her, her humiliation adding when she had to determine how to move on her own. She had half the mind to bite it clean off, but one gleam of warning in his eyes told her what the consequences would be. So she gingerly began to bob her head up and down, taking more of him with each stroke. His hand remained fisted in her hair as she sucked, but his eyes remained glacial, indifferent to every movement.

Alina lowered her eyes and focused on pleasing him more, using one hand to massage what her mouth couldn't reach, palming at his balls. Prickling pain at her scalp had her eyes returning to his, and she was relieved to find wicked delight flecked in those quartz depths.

"Eyes on me, pet," he purred, sending tingling waves cascading down her body and urging her to move faster, careful not to accidentally scrape her teeth on him. She saw the effect it had on him. The skin around his eyes crinkled slightly as he narrowed his eyes, his lips pulled back in a half-smirk, showing a glimpse of his clenched white teeth. "Tell me," he rasped, "Tell me how you love this, how you love having every eye in the room as you swear yourself to me. How you love it as your pathetic _otkazat'sya_ watches, unable to look away when he wishes he were me. Tell me how you love it, how you _crave_ enslavement to me. Tell me, Alina."

And it was so debasing, kneeling before him with her mouth full while he eyed her, impatiently waiting for her response. His hand was still tight in her hair as he moved her farther down and hit the back of her throat. As she fought against her gag reflex but let the tears roam down her face, she subdued.

"I lub iip," she moaned, clenching her thighs together.

The Darkling let loose a deep groan as her mumbled words traveled up his length in small vibrations. "Take all of it, my naughty saint," his hiss served as her only warning before his seed exploded in the back of her throat, and while she tried to pull her head back, his grip remained unforgiving. The taste was foreign on her tongue, both tangy and absent at once, and with a twinge of salt that might have been from her tears.

Then she was wrenched from him, sent sprawling across the floor by the ribbons of darkness that had both bound and fondled her at the Darkling's mercy. Spittle ran down her chin and dripped to the polished marble as she covered her breasts, whistles and applause erupting from above. Mal started, shuffling to her side with utmost concern in his glistening blue eyes.

The Darkling stood, already presentable as he paced down the dais and closed in on them. Mal raised his head and glared at him in defiance, but he hadn't been prepared for the Cut. The Darkling raised one hand to draw a jagged line into his arm, moving to curl towards his heart. A blood-curdling scream tore from Mal's throat, dampened by the gag but still loud enough to pierce Alina's ears. She cried and dove at the Darkling's feet, begging for his life.

Even if he had broken her heart, Mal didn't deserve this.

"You promised you'd let him go," she whimpered as she clutched onto the hem of his _kefta_. "I did what you wanted, so please..."

The Darkling lowered his hand and nodded to the Heartrender standing off to the side, "Take him to the dungeons."

Her head shot up as the Heartrender took Mal by the arms, now reduced to a trembling mess. A large gash had been carved from his bicep to his chest, stopping only centimeters away from his heart. If not immediately treated by a Healer, the wound would fester and he'd die within a matter of days. "But you promised..." she whispered from her place at his feet.

He watched as Mal was dragged from the room before lowering his gaze to her. "I promised to free him, and I intended to do so just now. Death seems like a fitting reward for the weak, though perhaps that would be too merciful of me - your villain."

Alina wiped the tears from her face and sat back on her legs as she covered her chest with one arm. Her pained expression remained downcast as he bent down and ran his long fingers over the collar that circled her throat. "I was tempted to make you my queen," he murmured softly, his breath fluttering against her skin almost lovingly.

"Now I want you as a pet."

One long ribbon of darkness braided itself into a cord before it fixated itself on her collar, acting as a leash as the Darkling held the other end. He gave an experimental tug before passing it to a nearby Squaller, a man by the name of Retvenko who had been loyal to the Darkling long before Alina entered the Little Palace.

"Take her to my new bedchambers," he instructed. Retvenko nodded and the Darkling turned on his heels, taking a step back to the throne before pausing.

"Be certain she crawls there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I proud of myself? Nope, not really. I honestly wasn't expecting it to get this dark, buuut what can I say?  
> The Darkling didn't get his name for being a precious cinnamon roll, but a SINnamon roll.  
> Now I'm going to go hide under a rock for a couple days.  
> (◡‿◡✿)


	3. Chapter 3

What had she done?

She should have fought harder, rebelled for both her sake and Mal's.

Disgust coiled in the pit of her stomach, sending waves of nausea up to her head that drowned out the laughter reverberating off the walls of the throne room as she was tugged out. The merzost-forged leash was tight around her collar, the incessant pull from the Squaller before her unforgiving.

Retvenko, as Alina immediately learned, wasn't the most gentle of men. As soon as the double doors shut behind them, she sat back on her heels and refused to budge for the sake of what little dignity she still possessed. Her petty victory lasted mere seconds before a blade of wind sliced into her already tender cheek, eliciting a hiss of pain from swollen lips. Blood speckled the floor, mingling with streaks of crimson leading away from the throne room.

She convulsed and doubled over, emptying the contents of her stomach.

_Good_ , she thought bitterly while tears pricked her eyes. _So his taste won’t linger._

"Come," Retvenko growled, a sneer wrinkling his handsomely aged face, only lined with a few wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes.

She opted to not test the Squaller's patience, returning to her hands and knees and letting him lead her down the cluttered hall.

And although she was beaten, used, abused, and humiliated most of all, she still managed a few croaked words. "Why do you follow him?" She was careful not to add any new injuries when they passed by a shattered tree that had been made entirely from cut crystal, a clear fortune which had been thoroughly destroyed by the _nichevo'ya_.

"Shut it, whore," Retvenko spat and she swore the air around them chilled. The word rushed over her like icy water, unwelcome and unforgiving. She was uncomfortably aware of her torn _kefta_ and her exposed chest, but at least he had the decency to keep his eyes trained ahead. Still the word resonated in her skull.

"I'm not," the mutter escaped her mouth before she could ponder whatever consequences might be bestowed upon her for speaking aloud. _Pets aren’t capable of speaking Ravkan_ , she thought dismally.

He snorted, turning down another hall littered with ruined artwork, ripped to the point of nonrecognition. "Your actions prove otherwise, Starkov. I am actually inclined to believe you might have enjoyed that display. Rumors had already been whispered among us as to where your loyalties lied."

Alina turned red at that. So it wasn't just a few select Grisha who had chosen not to side with the Darkling who had believed that. "They were just rumors," she whispered, faintly remembering the innocent kiss by the lake or him pulling her into the darkened sitting room at the winter fete to kiss her senseless. It all seemed so simple back then, and she sometimes caught herself wishing she hadn't run away the night Baghra whispered those fearful accusations in her ears.

She wished the Darkling had arrived at her room sooner.

_And then what?_ she thought with a miserable frown tugging on her lips. _I'd still be his pet. Only Fjerda and Shu Han would be suffering at his hands too, and I would be slightly less bruised._ She realized with another wave of nausea that he would soon be planning an assault on all sides, even if the Fjerdans had helped sneak him back into Ravka. The Darkling's only allies were his Grisha. His, not Alina's slaughtered Second Army.

A thoughtful sound hummed in the back of Retvenko's throat as he turned down another hallway, leading them past a fallen portrait of the king. An ugly rip had been slashed in the center of the canvas, and she caught herself wondering through her swimming head if Nikolai had managed to escape on the _Kingfisher_. The Darkling hadn't mentioned taking any other prisoners other than her and Mal.

Retvenko pushed open the door at the end of the hall and allowed a triumphant grin run across his face. "In you go, _sobachka_."

The word resounded in her head as she crawled inside, flinching when the door slammed shut behind her. She should be angry, furious at the idea of the degrading use of Nikolai's nickname. Yet in the moment, the name comforted her. She thought of the beaming smile that had graced his face as she had walked into the Grand Palace for the party, clad in the golden _kefta_ she thought gaudy but he found regal.

“Come back, Nikolai,” she whimpered, one lonely tear rolling down her bruised cheek.

Her stomach twisted and she shakily got to her feet before pulling off the tattered material and tossing it into the corner. The leash, thankfully, disappeared into wisps of shadows the moment she pulled the golden _kefta_ over her head.

Alina took in her surroundings.

The King's chambers were virtually untouched by the battle, with floors of white marble veined in blue rather than the red stains splattered about the rest of the grounds. Lavish artwork lined the walls in what was a sitting room, a fireplace nestled in the back wall, flanked by bookshelves and facing a loveseat accompanied by two royal blue armchairs.

There were two doors that led elsewhere, and while cursing her own curiosity, Alina padded over and pushed open the door to the left. Her tear-stained face soured at the sight of the bed, covered in a mass of various silks of indigo and gold, that took up nearly half of the massive room. A canopy of sheer fabric hung above the bed and dripped to the carpeted floor.

No doubt the Darkling had plans for redecoration to better suit his tastes.

Her shaky hands shut the door before she crossed the room again, this time entering the grand bathroom much suited for a king. Mirrors covered the expanse of the curved walls, surrounding the round bath. It was hardly a tub, she thought, and instead resembled the pools of the _banya_.

Alina frowned as she walked to the sink to rinse her mouth, ridding the taste of sick and lingering salty tang. She studied her face in the mirror, wan and lined with exhaustion.

As she stood there, taking in every frivolity, she hardly registered the sound of the door opening behind her. Alina whipped her head around, fresh fear gripping her heart. Her hands began to raise of their own accord but froze once she saw who stood in the doorway.

"Baghra?" Alina breathed, taking in the woman swathed in an abundance of fabric, a shawl covering a majority of her face.

Her first thought was that Baghra was too stubborn to follow Nikolai.

Her second was that Nikolai was dead.

But as the figure came into the light and unwrapped the shawl, Alina’s breath hitched while fresh tears gathered in her eyes. "Genya-"

"Don't, Alina," Genya spoke in a hushed tone, but her words were clear as day. Her face was marred with _nichevo'ya_ bites, raised black ridges of flesh and twisting lumps of tissue that could never be healed. Her hair had faded from vibrant red to a dull auburn and only one lovely amber eye remained. She silently brushed past her into the bathroom and began drawing a bath.

The silence was thick with desolation.

"I'm sorry," Genya said after a few tense moments, but refused to turn away from the running water. "You didn't deserve that."

Alina let go of a trembling breath that came out as a broken sob. "Me? No, that- that's not anything for you to feel sorry for." Her steps were sloppy as she approached her friend's tense back. "He did this to you-"

"Because I let you escape," Genya finished quickly, as if she didn’t want to be reminded. Her eyes stayed far from the mirrors, refusing to stray from the faucet. "And it seems to me like my beauty's sacrifice was all for naught."

Alina winced and trained her eyes on her slippers. They were tinged red. "I tried, but I was too late."

"It wasn't your fault." Genya turned her head slightly to look Alina up and down with her remaining eye. Wrinkling her nose, she said, "You look worse than me, and are smelling up the entire room. Now get in the bath before I push you in."

The mingling stench of bile and blood wafted up to her nose, and she finally relented in the fact that she was a mussed mess. With a small frown, Alina tore off what little left she wore, already in ribbons from the night's performance, and stepped into the steaming water. She relished in the searing heat as she sunk down into the water while Genya lathered her hands with soap and began scrubbing her bruised body down.

Oddly enough, Alina found comfort in silence. The redhead’s presence was enough to dampen the pain and calm the confusion that had been wreaked upon her heart. Though it still ached for the fallen Second Army and from both the physical and mental scars the Darkling had left.

Questions still swarmed about her head.

“Genya, did they escape? David and Zoya and-”

“I don’t know,” she said as she rinsed the soap suds from Alina’s hair with a pitcher of lukewarm water. “The Darkling kept me far from the battle. Just in case I would betray him a second time.” She paused for a moment. “Though I did hear that there were _otkazat’sya_ soldiers taken captive, those who claimed loyalty to Sankta Alina.”  

Alina’s brows scrunched in confusion. She wasn’t aware there had been soldiers fighting for her. She made a mental note to get to the dungeons as soon as possible, and she knew she had to venture there to face Mal eventually. The idea terrified her, and the question as to whether or not he would look at her with pity or loathing made her feel ill once more.

“You may leave, Genya,” the cool voice drifted into the room, sending a panicked tremor down Alina’s spine.

Genya stood straight and turned to face the Darkling. “Yes, _moi soverenyi_.”

“You may address me by my new title.”

There was a brief pause before she amended, “Yes, _moi tsar._ ”

Alina kept her eyes down as her only solace took her leave. Then, turning her back to him, she crossed her arms over her chest and made sure to keep her head down. The water sloshed around her bare skin and she tried to push away the thought that she was completely vulnerable to him.

The Darkling’s fingers gently pushed her sopping wet hair from the back of her neck and caressed the antler. “You performed well tonight,” his voice was just a whisper, but it was enough to make her tremble and attempt to pull from his grasp. Immediately his finger hooked beneath the collar and was tugging her back to him, close enough for his lips to brush the shell of her ear.

She refused to look at him, but she could suspect that he had been granted a generous view of her front from the angle. The feeling of exposure was enough to drive her mad, the droplets of water cascading down her reshaping to hundreds of ants gnawing at her skin.

The image cleared once he purred, “Alina, I needed them to know what power I held over you. Now _you_ must prove this to me.”

Tears pricked at her eyes. “Go to hell, you Saintsforsaken bastard.”

The collar pulled violently against her neck, cutting off her air. Alina’s hands shot up to struggle, but the familiar touch of shadows slithering across her wrists wrenched her arms in the air. Words failed to form at her lips and she instead managed a hoarse whimper.

“Alina, my Alina,” the Darkling growled and nipped her ear. “It sounded as if you were asking me to gut your precious tracker, begging for a front row seat to watch his innards splay across the dungeon floor. I would be immensely pleased to satisfy this utmost desire.”

Her vision was beginning to spot as she fought to remain conscious despite his cruel words. Still she managed the barest shake of her head that her body would allow and focused on the mirror facing her. She could make out the molten mercury of his harrowing eyes, how they narrowed slightly when his slender fingers slipped from the collar.

She doubled over as she desperately took in mouthfuls of air, feeling helpless as the whimper rose from her sore throat. “D- Don’t hurt him…” Fat tears were rolling down her cheeks, burning on her pale face as she finally turned to face him.

The Darkling suddenly struck her as something demonic. She had once dreamt he was a pale prince who would press his lips to her neck and place his hands on her collar as he would his own crown. Now he stood in the flickering lamplight, shadows moving across his beautifully scarred face as his unforgiving gaze bore into hers.

“Mercy,” he mused, tilting his head to examine her as one would a glittering gem. “I have just granted him such and yet I wonder if it truly matters. If I had had my way before, he would be a pile of bones used to nest the volcra.” A wicked grin spread across his face, though his eyes remained as cruel as before. “I am glad you saved him on the Fold, twice. If you hadn’t escaped me, you would only seek vengeance for his petty _otkazat’sya_ life. Now you are rewarded with a broken heart, and I with a crown.”

Alina choked on another sob. “I- I’ll break free again!”

The Darkling hummed as his hand skimmed across her cheek in a mockingly loving stroke. “You will break indeed.”

Silence enveloped the room after that, and the Darkling merely handed her a black _kefta_ made of the finest silks once she stood from the tub, arms wrapped around her chest and thighs firmly pressed together. After quickly throwing the _kefta_ on, she fled from the room and decided to warm herself by the newly lit fireplace. Her teeth clattered as she wiped away her tears, listening to wood crackle under the fire’s burn.

Just as Alina was hoping he had somehow managed to find a way to drown in the bath, the Darkling emerged from the bathroom wearing an impassive expression. His dark hair fell in inky tendrils across just above his eyes and she realized that it had grown longer since the voyage on the True Sea. Her eyes wandered down to his exposed chest, her mind immediately going back to his appearance in the _banya_. He had been the image of perfection there, but here the same faint scars that ran across his face riddled his chest and arms, as if the volcra truly had wanted a taste for revenge.

She swallowed and glanced back at the flames, thankful that he at least had the decency to wear trousers to bed. “Come,” he instructed as he moved across the floor to the bedchambers. The idea of running had graced her mind nearly a hundred times already, but with her mind on Mal and whoever else had been taken captive, she stood from the armchair and followed at his heels. The door closed behind her and she took in the sight of the bed with a pale face.

The Darkling said nothing as he moved aside the curtain, pulled back the coverlet and sheet, and crawled into bed as any normal person would.

And what had she expected? For him to slither underneath the bed like the demon he was?

She shifted uneasily on her feet and glanced longingly back at the door.

“One would think you’d be tired,” he murmured, turning on his side to gaze at her. “Considering tonight’s activities.”

Alina tinged pink and moved to take a step back when his hand shot out from underneath the covers. His fingers curled around her wrist, tugging her into bed beside him with his chest flush against hers. Before she had time to protest, he had captured her lips in a vicious kiss, anger fueling the tension that had built over the last few months when he had been hiding and she in power, the roles reversed from when they had both been hunting the stag. Now it seemed as if he had turned the tables again in his favor. She whimpered against his mouth while her hands pushed against his chest in a vain attempt to escape his controlled fury.

It ended as soon as it started. The Darkling broke the kiss and clenched her shoulders tight enough to match the large bruise already forming on her neck and cheek. “You will sleep like the mutt you are,” he growled before shoving her off the bed.

Wincing as she hit the floor, her left arm suffering the brunt of the sharp pain, Alina turned her eyes up at him, but he had already shifted onto his other side with his back to her. She unconsciously ran her fingers across her swollen lips while she shivered. “Can I at least have a blanket?” she whispered, almost certain he wouldn’t listen.

But a minute later, both the coverlet and a pillow fell into a heap of fabric in her lap, so she dried her eyes and curled up on the floor, ready for a restless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, I have survived after all these long years (okay, months but same difference)! Here's hoping I get on some sort of consistent schedule this new year but only time will tell. Now you may all drop your torches and pitchforks and excuse me while I slink into some sort of dark pit that is made solely for this sin ship. <3


	4. Chapter 4

Alina awoke the following morning with her body aching for more than one reason. To her relief, one glance to the bed told her than the Darkling had long been gone, the navy blue sheets neatly smoothed out in place. With a low groan, she stood up and ran her hand along her sore jaw, wincing when her fingers came in contact with the her scabbed cheek. She made a mental note not to get into any more squabbles with Squallers.

After splashing her face in the bathroom and glaring at the dark smudges underneath her eyes, she marched to the entrance of the main parlor and tried the door. And shockingly, it clicked open. She stood still for a long moment, listening to the silence filling the corridor. Then she peeked her head out and immediately paled.

Two _oprichniki_ stood on either side of the ornate door, two gray pillars of brute strength that had obviously been put there to stop her from a grand escape. A locked door would have done well enough. Alina flexed her fingers, reaching for her light before she hesitated. _Mal_. She needed to find her way down to the dungeons to see him.

She bit down on her lip. Then again, she didn’t want to see him so soon. She doubted that she’d be able to look him in the eye after what happened. Fingers drumming at her sides to direct her focus elsewhere, she pushed open the door further and took a step into the corridor, expecting the guards the grab hold of her and shove her back inside.

When they didn’t, Alina looked between them in confusion. “Are you guards or just for decoration?” Another step and no hands moved to grab her. “Just decoration then,” she murmured to herself before making her way down the otherwise empty hallway.

She expected unending silence, but as her steps brought her closer to the windows further down the corridor, voices sounded through the glass. Bunching her kefta up so she wouldn’t trip, her feet carried her quickly to the window. Her mind went to Nikolai, how he promised to return for her.

Her hopes were quickly dashed.

Instead of a brigade of the prince’s flying ships, Grisha of all orders were gathered outside the Little Palace, working on reconstruction. It was nearly in shambles, but she had no doubt that the Materialki would have the palace repaired in little to no time. The Darkling despised the Grand Palace, even called it the ugliest building he’d ever seen seen when she’d first been brought to Os Alta. That seemed so long ago, but little time had passed in reality.

She sighed and turned away, staring down the empty hall before making her mind up.

It was time for a trip to the dungeons.

 

* * *

 

After wandering aimlessly through the endless corridors that were practically empty save for the few _oprichniki_ stationed at certain doors, she found the steel door that led to the depths of the Grand Palace. She’d spent the last hour trying to find the entrance, had even asked a few of the gray-clad guards for directions, but they hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge her existence. She might as well have been asking a brick wall. Apparently the Darkling had given them strict orders to make her feel as little as possible.

At least dogs were given plenty of attention.

Sighing and shaking her head of the thought, Alina blatantly glared at the guards flanking the door, and when they made no move to stop her from going, she began her descent down the dark stairwell. Torches lined curved wall but they did little to light the spiral stairwell. It seemed as if the darkness was unnatural down here, desperate to snuff out every bit of illumination. She tried calling a pool of light to the palm of her hand, but nothing happened. Odd. She glanced back at the door and considered going back.

Then a scream pierced the air.

With her breath caught in her throat, she continued down, not giving herself a moment’s hesitation to stop and consider the consequences. Nearly everything had been stripped away from her at this point. Dignity, freedom, friendship—all taken with the Darkling’s successful coup. Many of her friends had fallen in the early hours of the night, but she still had a chance to save Mal.

Alina began taking two steps at a time, and it seemed as if being so deep underground was taking its toll on her. Fatigue weighed on every inch of her being, eyes growing heavy even though she had only woken up an hour ago. She wondered if this was where the Darkling thrived, if he was weakest with the sun at its peak, if his power increased tenfold in dismal emptiness. Perhaps the rumors that he kept dungeons of his own beneath the Little Palace weren’t so far-fetched.

When the stairwell came to an abrupt end, she surveyed the cell block in shock. Nearly every barred cell was packed with people, some with men and others with women. As she stood beneath the candlelight, few lifted their heads, their eyes widening. Those standing fell to their knees.

“ _Sankta_!”

“ _Sankta Alina_!”

She paled while their cries grew in numbers. Giving herself a mental shake, she let her feet carry her down the dark corridor and forced herself to look into every cell, avoiding their outstretched hands. Anguish and awe touched their faces as prayers escaping through trembling lips. Some were fanatic. Others simply looked at her, accusation growing in their eyes. Here she was, without an escort, either there to free them and leave them.

Alina lifted her hands and tried to focus on using the Cut. Careful not to harm anyone within the cell closest to her, she yanked her arms upward. Nothing happened.

She was too weak down here.

“ _Sankta_?” a blonde girl around Alina’s age murmured from the next cell. She took hold of the bars and peered out at her with large blue eyes, though those two orbs were her only saving grace. Her skin was caked with dried mud and where it had already chipped off, bruises had taken form, and one particularly nasty bruise was laid just over the tattoo of a sun.

It took Alina a moment to place her face. “Ruby?” Both she and Mal had trained with her at Poliznaya, assigned to the same regiment. She remembered her as a giggling, bubbling girl who made Alina feel hopeless in her skin. Now she could see the weariness of war in her once cheerful eyes.

“You remember me?” she whispered, voice fervent.

“I—yes. Do you know where Mal is?”

She blinked slowly before pointing down the corridor to the last cell, empty save for one slumped figure. Alina thanked Ruby, grit her teeth, and made her way past wavering arms to him.

He didn’t lift his head as she came to a stop before the polished iron bars.

“Mal?”

No answer.

“Mal, please talk to me.” She carefully lowered herself to the stone floor, trying to peer at his face through his mussed hair. Tears pricked at her eyes though she had sworn she had no more left to cry.

He lifted his head and looked her up and down before growling, “Get off your damn knees.”

Alina went still.

“I said—”

“I know what you said,” she mumbled, reaching through the bars and grabbing his hand. Her cheeks were already wet while she squeezed. “But either I stay like this or you stand up too.”

Mal let loose a shuddering sigh, solid pain swimming in his deep blue eyes and muscles rigid under her touch. “I can’t. Too injured. My chest hurts like hell. Bastard broke one of my legs too. Said I shouldn’t even think about running.”

She summoned a weak ball of light with her free hand and gasped. In the darkness, she was unable to see the terrible shape he was in. His torso was splattered with blood, the brutal cut from his shoulder to his heart congealed. One leg stretched out before him was bound tightly with the remains of his shirt as an attempt to set it right.

“He broke your leg?”

He nodded stiffly. “Guess my escape plan is out of the question.”

“I’m sorry, Mal. This is all my fault,” the words came out in a broken sob as she released his hand to wipe away the new onslaught of tears. “I’m so sorry. I’ll find a Healer and bring them down here.”

“He won’t allow that.”

“I’ll beg him—”

“You’ll do no such thing!” Mal gazed at her painfully while rubbing his temple. Silence stretched between them before he spoke again, “This is what’s going to happen. You’re going to find a way out of this hellhole. Forget about me. Go find Nikolai. He’s your only chance.”

She shook her head. “How can you _say_ that? You didn’t leave me. I won’t leave you.”

“You two are going to raise an army and burn this place to the ground, and you’ll gut your rapist right in the middle of it.”

Alina flinched, lowering her hands to the collar. His orders resonated in her head and refused to settle. She thought of the blanket the Darkling had thrown at her, felt the silk of the black _kefta_ kiss her skin, and she knew at the moment she wouldn’t be able to kill the man who had appeared in the _banya_ when she thought herself alone against the world.

A gloved hand closed over her shoulder.

In the midst of their reunion, neither of them had noticed the cries of worship distort into wails of fear.

Cruel lips brushed her ear, firm thighs encasing her trembling figure between them. “Tell me, Alina, did I _rape_ you?”

She watched Mal jerk forward and grit his teeth to hold in the inevitable shout of pain, and as the Darkling’s arms encircled her waist, she was again powerless.

“Answer me.”

Mal slammed his fists against the bars, knuckles already bloody from earlier attempts. “Fuck off, you irredeemable prick.”

The Darkling’s arms tightened and brought her closer against his chest, molding her against him. She stiffened at the feel of his obvious arousal pressing against her lower back. “Right here, tracker? And here I thought you didn’t enjoy last night’s display. Ah, wait. You did, didn’t you?”

“Go. To. Hell.”

He clicked his tongue and directed his attention back to the trembling girl in his arms. “Alina, as much as I enjoy your blissful silence, I did ask a question. Answer it or you’ll be leaving your little friend down here in two perfectly symmetrical pieces.”

“No,” she sobbed, hanging her head.

“No what?”

Alina raised her head and gazed at Mal through her teary vision, watched him shake his head, watched his knuckles turn white as his fingers clenched the steel bars, watched his eyes widen in fractions before she spoke her next words. She pulled her eyes back down and whispered, “No, you didn’t rape me…”

She could hear the deadly smirk in the Darkling’s voice, the satisfied purr unhurriedly peeling away every restraint she harbored. “Now, isn’t that interesting?” He stood, gathering Alina in his arms before turning away from Mal to address the other prisoners. “This is your saint, the girl you traded your lives for. This is the whore you worship.”

Shame inflamed her cheeks while sobs and jeers were thrown in their direction, and to her horror, most were directed at her and not at the king who cradled her against the firm chest she chose to bury her face in.

“You’ll waste away in this dungeon, boy,” the Darkling sneered over his shoulder. “And I’ll make her scream for centuries.”

 

* * *

 

Alina put up no fight as he carried her out of the dungeon, thoughts too occupied with her own betrayal and Mal’s expression twisting with devastation. She worried her bottom lip, wondering if she had spoken the truth. The Darkling had cornered her in the _banya_ , then he’d stormed the palace and offered Mal’s freedom in exchange for her proving her loyalty. Her consent had been dubious at least.

They were back in the corridor that housed the royal suites, and paling, she began struggling against him, slamming her palms against his chest. “Let me go!”

He halted in his steps before obliging, and she yelped as she was dumped at his feet. A sudden tearing pain in her scalp, and he led her by the hair, stumbling, through the closest door. It was a suite much like the king’s, grand with its own sitting area, a door that most likely led to the adjoining bathroom, a gorgeous armoire intricately carved from cherry wood, a master bed covered with deep blue silks.

Her heart clenched at the sheer amount of model ships covering almost every surface.

“Familiar?” the Darkling drawled. “I heard that the prince had taken quite a liking to you.” Not giving her a chance to respond, her dragged her to the bed and released her as he sat at the edge. “Over my knee.”

She looked at him, bewildered.

“Now, Alina,” he said, impatience wearing his voice.

She scrambled to her feet before timidly approaching and bending at the waist, still unsure of what exactly he had in mind. His arm came across her back and she was splayed across his lap in a moment’s time, her bottom in the air, displayed for him. She could feel him pressing against her abdomen, and went white, turning her head to stare at him with wide eyes as she came to realization as to what he had planned.

“Was that so hard?” His fingertips skimmed over her leather boots before taking hold of the hem of her  _kefta_ and peeling it up to lay bare her skin. He hadn’t provided her any undergarments, so when the _kefta_ bunched above her hips, everything was exposed. A small whimper sounded in her throat while she buried her face in the silk bed sheets.

She could hear the wicked smirk in his voice as he purred, “It isn’t anything I haven’t seen before. Now why am I about to punish you?”

Her brows knit together before she guessed, “Because I hit you?”

“You did raise your hand to your king. Give me another reason.” He sounded nearly bored.

“I—I went to see Mal without your permission.”

“Good girl,” The Darkling praised, sweeping her hair to the side to delicately scrape a nail against the nape of her neck just below the collar. “Although I specifically instructed my _oprichniki_ not to address you, I never gave you permission to wander alone. What is a pet without her leash? Disloyal, inconstant, willing to run away from a loving owner. Something like that needs to be punished. I want you to count for me.”

She felt something slither along her skin, tracing the line where her thighs met her rear. A paddle fashioned from merzost, much like the leash had been. The first strike came down hard, and she hissed in pain and scrunched her eyes shut.

“ _Count_. Or would your rather bark?”

“O—one,” she forced out.

He hummed in approval before hitting her again, this time landing on her right cheek. A gasp of pain escaped her parted lips, but she continued as instructed, “Two.”

The lashes continued, stinging sensitive skin that would no doubt be painful to sit on unless treated by a Healer, and she was surely not letting anyone that close to her. At seventeen, tears were rolling down her cheeks and fingers were twisting Nikolai’s sheets.

At twenty, a scream of mercy ripped from her throat.

The paddle disappeared, but his hand was on her in an instant, soothing her with his ungloved touch and dipping between her thighs.

“No,” she moaned pitifully, a twitching mess in his lap.

“Oh, Alina, I think someone’s keeping a secret from me,” his crooning voice crawled across her reddened skin, filling her with both guilt and elation. The Darkling explored her leisurely, circling her clit, slipping through her folds and teasing her slick entrance. Without realizing it, she had bit down on the wrung sheets and proceeded to whine into the fabric. Her chest heaved as he pushed his finger inside, then another.

He began working her into a frenzy, pumping his fingers while manipulating her clit with another. In no time at all, she was a bucking mess in his lap. Mind a fog, no qualms as to what he had done the night before, what he had yet to do. All that mattered now was her satisfaction, her immediate gratification, something that only he could give her. She reared her head up and shrieked as the crest of her release struck, one stroke pushing her over the edge in a surge of starlight exploding behind her eyelids.

If she had been in shambles before, she was in chaotic disarray now.

Heaving for air, she turned her head and gazed languidly at the Darkling, who met her eyes and brought his hand to his lips, running his tongue along slender fingers. His eyes were gleaming, bright and poisonous as mercury, while he licked his hand clean.

After slipping his glove back on, he eased her off of his lap onto the soft bed and stood, readjusting his _kefta_. “Do find time to have lunch, pet. And I expect for this occasion to continue later on, so be prepared.”

She closed her eyes, barely registering the door closing after his departure. She laid on her back for several minutes, eyes shut, half-expecting him to return to finish what he started. A smile graced her lips when she heard the soft click of a lock come from her right.

“Alina?”

Her eyes snapped open, cautiously turning to look at the armoire.

It cracked open, and bright hazel eyes stared out.

“Nikolai?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this update out! Hope you guys can forgive little ol' me~ Now this is where we get into the thick of the plot, but we all love the dash of smut here and there, so that won't be going away anytime soon. As always, thanks for reading!


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